


i think i love you better now

by teddylupin_snape



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, honestly sirius's motorcycle is almost as vital a character as he is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-11 00:30:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17436416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teddylupin_snape/pseuds/teddylupin_snape
Summary: Twelve years is a long time. A lot can change. Still, some things never will.





	i think i love you better now

                “James, you coming?”

                It seemed clear to Remus that James most certainly did _not_ want to come. The other boy was already burrowing in his blankets. He rolled his eyes as reply to Sirius. “I’ve already seen it plenty of times. Besides, last thing I want is to be stuck between the two of you on that thing all night. Enjoy, but I’ll be getting some sleep. Try not to wake me when you get back, yeah?”

                Sirius snorted. “Like we could manage that.” James had always been an incredibly sound sleeper—both at Hogwarts and at his own home. Remus watched as Sirius shook his head and pushed up from where he sat on the floor. “C’mon, mate. It’ll be amazing. First real trip!”

                “What are you talking about? What’s going on?”

                He didn’t give Remus an answer, merely shot him a cocky grin. “Grab a jacket, let’s go!”

                Remus gave him an annoyed look, which Sirius didn’t notice. He glanced at the alarm clock on James’s bedside table. Midnight. Meaning Mr. and Mrs. Potter were already asleep, which was surely what Sirius had been waiting for. With a last sigh, he picked up his jacket and scarf from the hook by the door and followed Sirius out into the hallway.

                They snuck downstairs and out into the back garden, careful to avoid the few steps that were particularly loud. The whole way, Remus thought of nothing but what he was getting himself into. When even James didn’t want to be involved, it couldn’t be good. But it’d been a while since he’d seen Sirius so excited. Ever since he’d officially moved in with the Potters the previous summer, his smiles had seemed forced, his laughs ingenuine. Remus missed this Sirius—the one who led him creeping out into the dark yard in the dead of night to do who knows what.

                Remus hesitated at the back door, giving this excursion a second thought as the winter air hit him. “Merlin, Sirius, it’s freezing outside! I’m not going anywhere, not until you tell me what’s up.”

                “Ah, c’mon, Moony. It’s a surprise. It’ll be fun, promise.”

                And Remus would’ve argued, but Sirius brought out those puppy-dog eyes that he had perfected at about the same time he’d perfected the Animagus transformation. He knew Remus’s weaknesses far too well; he was putty in Sirius’s hands. He followed Sirius through the Potters’ back garden, to the far corner of the fence. Sirius stopped at the old shed. Remus had been in there a fair few times over the years. This was where the Potters kept their broomsticks and Mr. Potter’s gardening supplies and a few old toolboxes. “Isn’t it a bit late for flying?” Remus asked as Sirius opened the door.

                “James told you! Dirty liar, he promised—”

                Remus’s eyebrows scrunched together. “He hasn’t told me anything. What are you on about— _oh_.”

                The door opened fully, and Remus was looking back at his reflection in the shiny, cherry-red paint on a beautiful motorcycle. “You—you _bought_ this?”

                “Yeah,” Sirius said, toeing the ground sheepishly. He looked torn between allowing Remus to explore the bike on his own and leaping forward to point out all the features himself. “It looked a lot worse when I got it. Took ages to fix it up. Do you like it?”

                “I—I mean, it’s gorgeous, Padfoot, but are you mad?”

                Sirius grinned. “Maybe.” He rubbed the back of his neck, following Remus into the shed. “Wanna take her for a ride?”

                “Wait.” Sirius’s eyes flit up to Remus’s, an eyebrow raised. “You mentioned flying.”

                He nodded eagerly. “Yeah. Thought it’d be cool. Figured I’d enchant it, make it fly. It does pretty well, if I do say so myself.”

                “You really are mad.” Remus ran a hand through his hair, grinning at Sirius. The other boy turned to him, meeting his eyes.

                Sirius stood on his tiptoes to be able to reach Remus, kissing him briefly. “Let’s take a ride, yeah?”

                Remus grinned as they broke apart. “Guess I’m mad, too.”

                Beaming, Sirius climbed on, turning and patting the seat behind him. Remus clambered on significantly less gracefully and wrapped his arms around Sirius’s waist. “You’re sure about this.”

                “Positive. Trust me.”

                He revved the engine to life, hands resting comfortably on the black-gripped handlebars. Remus clung tighter to Sirius’s back as they petered out of the shed and into the expanse of the back garden. They sped through the grass and down the long lane that led out of the Potter’s and down to the main road. It gave them enough speed to risk getting off the ground. Sirius whipped his head around quickly, trying to take in Remus’s expression. The look was a whirl of hair and nothing else; he turned back to face the open road and pulled up on the handlebars. The front tire left the ground, then the back one. Before Remus knew it, they were flying. Literally _flying_ in a motorbike that Sirius had repaired and charmed. It was ridiculous. It was exhilarating. Sirius’s hair was whipping against Remus’s face as they flew still faster, but Remus didn’t mind. He reveled in the wind soaring through his own hair, the way the fresh air hit his face.

He let out a low whoop as they drove over the small town. They were just above the layer of clouds, enough so the air felt like mist as they broke through it, enough so the Muggles probably couldn’t see them. Remus found he didn’t care much if the Muggles _could_ see them. As hesitant as he’d been to get on the bike in the first place, now that he was up in the air, pressed up against Sirius’s back and holding on like his life depended on it, the last thing he wanted to do was to return to the ground.

Sirius led them through the sky for a while. The gentle roar of the motorbike’s engine became soothing, the steady turbulence of their flight almost comforting. Remus hugged Sirius tighter, not because he was afraid of falling, but because he never wanted to let go. The night went on around them, still dark as pitch. “What time is it, d’you think?” Sirius called, his head half-turned in Remus’s direction.

Sparing a glance at his watch, not daring to move his hand too far from its spot on Sirius’s waist, he read the time quickly. “About 1:30.”

“Damn,” Sirius muttered, more to himself than Remus. “Better head back…”

While Remus didn’t want their adventure to end, he shared the feeling that he’d rather not have the Potters wake to find the two of them missing. They had been kind enough to take Remus and Sirius over the winter holidays, the last thing Remus wanted was to worry them like this.

Sirius pulled the bike back around in the direction that they’d come. After a while, as though he knew the route far better than he did, Sirius steered the bike into a descent. He was headed for the Potters’ long driveway. The ground grew nearer, and Remus closed his eyes briefly. He wanted to remember this night, this moment. The feel of Sirius’s body against his, no hesitation, no awkwardness.

He opened his eyes as he felt the bike touch down. It was a rough landing, far bumpier and less controlled than any other part of their drive had been. Remus glanced at the earth zooming past below them, at the long tire track being left in a previously immaculate flowerbed. Remus’s jaw dropped slightly. He turned up, looking at the windows of the house they were heading towards. The lights were on in the sitting room, and it wasn’t the Potter’s house.

Only a moment later, a rather old man in a tartan robe opened the front door. “Blasted kids always ruining my garden,” he growled, loud enough to travel. Remus felt Sirius wince. “Go home, damn you! Ruddy kids and their ruddy motorbikes. What they think they’re doing…”

As he closed his door behind him, Sirius turned to Remus. There was a nervous look on his face. Remus mirrored it. “Run for it?”

Sirius nodded. They climbed off the bike, each taking one side of the handlebars and pushing the bike with them as they ran back to the Potters’ house. The earth was soft beneath Remus’s feet, until they’d reached the paved driveway of James’s house. They slowed down a bit, catching their breaths. Remus clutched at a stitch in his side. Sirius panted.

“Y’know?” Remus said between breaths. “I never… thought I’d enjoy this—a flying motorbike. You… you were right. It was fantastic.”

Sirius beamed, biting his lip. “C’mon, let’s get it back in the shed before anyone else notices. Mrs. Potter doesn’t exactly know I’ve got this…”

Remus just rolled his eyes, sighing with a grin as he helped Sirius stow the bike away for the night.

“You—you don’t think I’m an idiot? For doing this, I mean?”

Sirius’s voice was hesitant, like he’d been worrying that Remus would think him insane for fixing up the bike the way he had. “It works, doesn’t it? That bike’s magnificent, mate. Besides, you might be an idiot, but you’re my idiot. That means something.” Remus’s words died off as a whisper as they entered the house. They took off their muddied shoes, carrying them up to James’s room. Remus eased the door open as quietly as he could, and the two of them slipped inside.

“Another go tomorrow?”

“You’re a mess, Sirius.”

.

                The years don’t pass nearly as quickly as they once did. Twelve years is a long time to be alone, to dwell on the reminder that he’d been betrayed, so utterly and so thoroughly by someone he’d trusted.

                Remus didn’t want to fall in love with him again. He didn’t trust himself to look into those eyes like molten silver and turn him down. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to continue on with life as he had been, not now that Sirius was out of Azkaban. Not now that he’d been given another chance.

                But the blessings always come with curses, as Remus so frequently was reminded. Sirius was out of Azkaban, he didn’t sell out Lily and James. But Remus’s secret is revealed, and he loses the only real job he’s ever known. All that’s left to do is to continue living. At least he has some semblance of what he used to live for. At least he has Sirius, the shell of the man he’s become.

                He brings him back to his house, the ramshackle old thing it is. Remus lights candles, trying to make it feel warm, like a home. He’s reminded of the summers they’d shared at the Potters’ house, back when they were young and free and _happy_. Remus missed the happiness more than anything; its absence was like a gaping hole in his chest.

                “Do—do you still have my bike?”

                Sirius’s voice still cracked when he used it. Remus was left wondering if he’d uttered a single word out loud in the decade he’d been imprisoned.

                “It’s… it’s out back. Sirius, please,” Remus added as the other man rose from his chair. “We need to talk.” His voice wasn’t as strong as he’d have liked it to be. Sirius wasn’t the only one who’d been changed by the past twelve years. A part of Remus was certain they would never again be the same. But another, feebler part held hope.

                “I haven’t—” He paused, closing his eyes as though willing himself not to cry. It broke Remus to see. “I can’t be inside right now, please.”

                Remus nodded, standing and leading the way out to the back of his house. The bike leaned against the outer wall, covered in a thin tarp. It was the best Remus had been able to do. He couldn’t watch Sirius’s face as he uncovered the old motorbike. He couldn’t bear to see the disappointment as he saw what had happened to his prized possession over the years of neglect.

                The old, blue tarp puddled around the bike. Sirius’s face didn’t change, but Remus was sure he could hear his heart breaking. Perhaps Sirius had gone through too much, perhaps his face didn’t show any more disappointment.

                Sirius’s motorbike was a shadow of the bike it once was. Where there used to be glossy red paint, it was now chipped and faded. The silver accents were rusted through. The sleek black designs were worn down to the color of charcoal. The bike was as damaged as they both were.

                “Oh.” The sound was soft, weak. Remus swallowed hard, still avoiding Sirius’s eyes. “Well… well, it might still run.” He placed a hand on the seat of the bike gently. “Keys?”

                “Right. Keys. Be right back,” Remus murmured, heading back inside and plucking the keyring off a hook by the door. He held them out to Sirius as he returned, then stepped back.

                “You’re not coming.”

                “I—no. I can’t, I don’t—”

                Sirius shrugged. Remus could feel his hurt heavy in the air. He didn’t change his mind, though. He leaned back against the doorframe, watching Sirius. The keys turned in the ignition, once, twice, three times before anything but a feeble sputter sounded from the engine. The fourth time, the engine roared to life. It was a sound so beautiful, so energizing. Remus hadn’t heard anything like it in years, and from the look on Sirius’s face, neither had he.

                “I’ll have to fix her up, of course, but she’ll be good as new soon.”

                Sirius continued muttering to himself as he steered the bike down into the expanse of trees behind Remus’s house. He stood back, wondering just how much of the man he had once known was lost within the walls of Azkaban.

                It was a while before Sirius returned. Remus hadn’t been expecting anything different—he knew how long Sirius had been imprisoned, how much he had longed for the freedom and familiarity of his old motorbike. Remus ached to join him, but he felt like their relationship had ended with James’s and Lily’s deaths. He wasn’t sure anything could be how it once was.

                The sound of the engine’s purring returned. Remus looked up at the tree-line, watching Sirius make his descent. He pulled a sharp dive at the edge of the forest, crashing hard into the earth. The bike faltered, the engine dying out as Sirius tumbled over the handlebars. Remus heard a sickening crunch and rushed forward, falling to his knees beside Sirius.

                He pushed the other man’s hair out of his face. “Sirius! Are you alright?”

                Sirius looked up at Remus. His expression was every bit of the teenager-in-trouble that Remus had so missed. “Guess I need to work on my landings, ey?”

                “Your _arm_ , Sirius. Merlin…” Remus shook his head, pulling his wand from his pocket and helping Sirius sit up. Sirius kicked his legs out in front of him. He glanced down at his right arm and regretted it immediately.

                “Shit.”

                The limb stuck out at an unnatural angle. Sirius couldn’t feel the pain yet, but the longer he looked at his broken arm, the more nauseous he felt.

                “Hold still,” Remus said. Sirius met his eyes—the glance they shared harbored a strong emotion that Remus couldn’t name. It felt like, even though everything was going wrong, everything was perfect. Remus shook his head. “I’m not sure I trust myself to mend it, but I can splint it at least. I’ve never been as good at healing charms as you.”

                Sirius laughed, the sound remarkably loud in the secluded forest. “You’re gonna have me fix my own broken arm?”

                “Would you rather I try?” A wry smile tugged at the corners of Remus’s lips. Sirius laughed louder.

                “Good point. Splint away, Moony.” He held his arm out, wincing as he attempted to move it closer to Remus. Remus waved his wand silently over the arm, and white bandages appeared, wrapping around Sirius’s arm, holding it in place. “Thanks,” Sirius murmured.

                Remus didn’t quite meet his eyes. Something had been bothering him since he’d reunited with Sirius back in the Shrieking Shack. Since that fateful day twelve years earlier. “I wish you’d told me you switched Secret Keepers.” His voice was barely audible, but Sirius still managed to catch every word.

                “I should’ve.” He tried to look Remus in the eye, but the other man was staring resolutely at his hands. Sirius sighed. “You know as well as I do that we couldn’t trust anyone back then. I should’ve known, though. I should’ve trusted you. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

                With a small nod, Remus swallowed hard. “If—if you had just told me, I would’ve known. I wouldn’t have spent all these years thinking you were responsible, you wouldn’t have been—”

                “Do you really think you still could’ve trusted me?”

                “I don’t know,” Remus answered honestly. “I’m sure the Ministry wouldn’t have listened to me anyway.”

                Sirius reached out to Remus with his left arm, taking Remus’s hand in his. “It’s alright. It’s all behind us now.” His eyes grew distant, focusing on some far-off trauma. “It’s alright.”

                Remus met his eyes, and Sirius felt hope for the first time in over a decade.


End file.
